


A New Path to Follow

by Cookie



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Discussion of Infidelity, M/M, merlin reverse 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 04:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19041298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookie/pseuds/Cookie
Summary: Merlin refuses to accept Arthur's death at Camlann. In saving Arthur, it seems a whole new destiny is about to come to pass.





	A New Path to Follow

 

Merlin has no idea how long he has been sitting with his King’s cold hand in his, surrounded by silence and grief.

A sound rouses him as the sun dares to lift its head to start another day, and in the growing light he sees the boat, watching as it cuts through the still water. It hardly disturbs the surface and no-one is within it, though it moves as swiftly as if there is an oarsman present.

Not a boat – a bier.

A bier fit for a King, bedecked in flowers from every season, flowers he has never seen, as if they come from far off lands across the seas. A bier come to take the Once and Future King to Avalon.

A bier to take Arthur away from Merlin.

“No.” With his free hand he wipes at his eyes, rage overpowering even the grief and desolation. “No.”

Power rushes through him and the boat ignites, burns with a bright blue fire and is gone, sinking beneath suddenly turbulent water until there is no sign it has ever existed.

Staring at the misty, mysterious centre of the lake, he speaks, and in his voice is all the command of a Dragonlord, of the most powerful warlock magic has ever brought into being.

“It was not his time. This should not have been. Give him back to me.”

It is not a request.

It is not a plea.

It is an order.

“Give him back to me!” His voice thunders and rolls, and the ground shakes beneath him., the wind tearing at him. “I command it. Bring him back to me.”

The wind dies, the earth stills and it seems as if the world holds its breath for a moment. Merlin draws in one deep breath and then -

Chaos. Noise. The world twisting and turning around him, unmaking itself, rushing faster and faster. He cries out as Arthur’s hand is torn away from him, before blackness descends and he knows no more.

 

**

 

“My son, what have you done? What have you done?”

The memory returned to Merlin slowly, along with his other senses. Pushing himself to his knees he stared around, confused and disoriented until he finally recognised his surroundings; the shimmering crystals telling him he could only be in one place.

“Arthur died,” he managed to get the words out, his head still swimming and stomach roiling.

“No. I do not know what you have done, my boy, but Arthur still lives.”

Merlin was on his feet, grabbing onto the rough stone as he stumbled. “He lives?”

“The battle at Camlann has not yet begun.” There was a new note in Balinor’s voice, as if he now knew what Merlin had done, though Merlin himself was still not sure just how he had ended up back here. Back before the battle.

He gasped. “I can save him.” Spinning wildly, he faced the wall of rock behind which Morgana had imprisoned him.

Hope surged through him, and he cast out his hand. Without having to speak a word, the blockage melted away as if it had never existed.

As he was about to rush out, Balinor’s voice stopped him. “Merlin, my son, this is a new journey for you, a new future. Your power surpasses even the Gods now, use it wisely and well. And look to the dragons, my boy, all of them.”

“Thank you,” Merlin had enough experience of Nimueh to understand immediately his father’s concerns. With so much power, it would be easy to mold the future to his will, just as he had obliterated the past. Arthur, he thought, Arthur will contain me. “I will remember.”

 

**

 

This time when he reached Camlann he did not transform into Dragoon. Whatever Arthur’s reaction now, whatever happened, he would hide no longer. He could save Arthur now, and he could save Gwaine, too, and bring this war with Morgana to an end. This, he thought, this should have been our destiny. This _is_ our destiny.

The armies were ranged before him, rank upon rank of Saxons and against them, the red cloaks of the knights and the army of Camelot looked frighteningly small. With an augmented sight, he picked out Morgana and Mordred. They had not yet seen him, but he knew it would not be long as he the white dragon hoved into view, heading towards Morgana.

“Aithusa. Come.” There was no gainsaying his power though she fought against it, twisting and turning in the sky before, with slow wing strokes she came to him, settling on the ground and shifting from leg to leg, growling and grumbling in her distress and anger. Her head turning towards Morgana, who was calling for her.

“Aithusa,” Merlin gentled his voice. “I failed you, I know. I had no-one to tell me how to care for you, and I was too concerned with protecting Arthur to understand that I needed to protect you, too. Listen to me now.”

With a final look behind her to where Morgana was now approaching as fast as she could, Aithusa settled.

“Arthur is the Once and Future King. It is my destiny to protect him, to help him bring about peace in Albion and a golden age for us all. I want to bring magic back to Camelot and I know Arthur will understand and agree.”

The noise Aithusa let loose was as close to a snort of disbelief as Merlin had ever heard.

“I give you my word. I know you love Morgana, and I will try to save her today as I could not before. She may always hate me and Arthur, but I know she loves you.”

He wasn’t sure where his certainty was coming from, why he knew what he had to do, and perhaps it was just the memory of those awful days when he watched Arthur die, when he murdered Morgana, that provided enough desperation to find the way through.

Reaching out, he set his hands on Aithusa’s muzzle, ignoring her flinch as he spoke the words that came to him, his father’s voice gentle within him, helping him even now.

Aithusa started back and spread out her wings. The deformity from her imprisonment was gone and the grey-white hide was now a sparkling snowfield.

“You have healed me. There is no pain.”

A pause.

“You have given me my voice.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Merlin smiled. “Good. It is little enough to make up for my neglect.”

Aithusa did not contradict him.

“What will you order me to do?”

“I ask you to help me put an end to this war, to help ensure that both Arthur and Morgana live. Even if there is no hope of reconciliation, at least I hope we can find a way to peace. I’m not going to hide any more, Aithusa. I must take my place as Emrys and Dragonlord. Arthur – I hope Arthur will accept me, but even if he doesn’t, it’s still my destiny to protect him while he builds Albion. Will you help me?”

Her blue eyes were bright as they regarded him, her head tipped to the side. Merlin waited, hardly daring to draw breath.

“The young knight. I tempered his sword in my breath. He will use it to kill King Arthur.”

Balinor’s voice was with him once more, the words of the dragon tongue soft and insistent, telling him what he had to do.

“Thank you, Aithusa. Will you chase away the Saxons and then take Morgana somewhere safe. I will come to you when I can.”

She bowed her head to him, and then with a magnificent upsweep of undamaged wings she was airborne, trumpeting her triumph. Merlin laughed aloud and then looked down to where Morgana had been struggling towards them. She was staring upwards at Aithusa. Her attention swung to him and even at the distance, he could see loss and fear.

He raised a hand and spoke, know she would hear him even though he had not raised his voice. “I am a Dragonlord, Morgana, but Aithusa is your dragon – not mine.” Somewhere in his mind, he wondered at the bond between the witch and the dragon, unsure how such a thing could have happened unless… unless there was Dragonlord blood within Morgana herself.

There was no time now to think of it, and no more time for Morgana. With the knowledge that Aithusa would keep her safe and keep her from harming Gwaine, he stepped forwards towards his destiny.

It was time.

 

**

 

Between one step and the next he had moved from the top of the escarpment to the centre of the battlefield. Men gasped and swung away from him in shock but he had eyes for no-one, moving swiftly to the spot he had found Arthur before, when he had been too late. Behind him, he was aware of Aithusa harrying the Saxons, turning on Morgana’s army. He paused for just a moment as, even above the tumult of the battle, a woman’s voice cried out. Turning, he saw Aithusa’s brilliant form swooping down and when she rose, Morgana was safely held within a cage of her talons.

Knowing he need concern himself with them no longer, his attention was all on what he had to do now. He could see them, quickening his step and as Mordred lunged forward, Merlin shouted the words of his spell. In the periphery of his vision he saw Arthur’s shock, and then Mordred’s as blue light flickered on the blade he carried and was gone, taking with it its magical strength and leaving it an ordinary blade.

But ordinary blades could still kill, and without thought, Merlin plunged forward, barreling into Arthur’s side and meeting Mordred’s gaze as the blade sliced through his side.

Mordred had time for one word. _“Master?”_ before Arthur reacted, his own blade slicing deep and true. Merlin, slumping to his knees, hand pressed to his site, watched Mordred die and knew he was satisfied. Arthur was safe. In the end, that was all that mattered.

Before he could collapse completely, Arthur was at his side

“Merlin, you idiot, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Saving your life, as always.”

“Gods, you – Merlin, magic?”

“Sorry, wanted to tell you.” It was becoming difficult to breathe.

Arthur, miraculously, shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

He was shifting Merlin and there was so much pain all of a sudden. He cried out.

“Stay with me, Merlin. Gwaine!”

“It’s fine, Arthur. I’ll be fine.” Merlin tried to reassure him, finding the energy to pat Arthur’s hand.

“Gwaine, find Gaius, quickly.”

Merlin tried to smile up at Gwaine, but the pain took him again and he coughed, tasting the iron of the blood in his mouth.

“Stay with me, Merlin. Stay with me.”

“’M sorry. About everything. I’m fine. I won’t be dead long, I promise.”

“You’re not going to die at all. Merlin? Merlin, stay with me.”

Arthur’s voice was receding, becoming quieter and Merlin struggled to hear him.

“Merlin, don’t leave me.”

Of course he wasn’t going to leave Arthur. How could he even think Merlin would do such a thing. He fixed a clouding gaze on Arthur and tried to speak, to reassure him but he was so tired. So tired, but Arthur was safe now and so he could sleep. For a little, just a little. He sighed and shut his eyes.

 

**

 

As if seeing his missing manservant suddenly appearing from thin air hadn’t been startling enough, the flash of golden eyes as Merlin hurled what was clearly a spell at Mordred, had robbed Arthur of breath. More shocking than anything though, had been the surety, the strength, the confidence in Merlin’s attitude. With his jaw set and his chin high, this was no mere manservant but a man of power. Arthur had been distracted, a cardinal - and usually deadly - sin in the midst of a battle and had not been ready as Mordred attacked. If it hadn’t been for Merlin, Camelot would have been without her King.

Ignoring Mordred breathing his last, he scrambled to Merlin’s side, dropping down. He spotted Gwaine and shouted for him, sending him for Gauis. The blood was running freely from the wound in Merlin’s gut and Arthur had seen too many such injuries not to understand that this was a death blow.

He gathered Merlin into his arms and it didn’t matter what he’d just learned, or the implications, the lies and secrets suddenly laid bare, all that was important now was keeping Merlin alive against all the odds.

Merlin was muttering, his words making little sense and not impacting upon Arthur’s terror. How was he supposed to go on without Merlin? Just as Gaius and Gwaine arrived, a final breath sighed from the burden in his arms, and Merlin was still.

Arthur never knew what was in his expression as he stared up at the new arrivals, but Gwaine bit back a curse and Gaius a choking gasp of grief.

“Stupid man,” he managed. “He told me he wouldn’t be dead long.”

At his words a remarkable change swept over Gaius’ features. Of course Gaius had known about Merlin and the magic. “Oh my boy, what have you done now?” There was such fond exasperation in his voice. “Let’s get him back to the camp.”

There were tears streaming down Gwaine’s face as between them they got Merlin off the ground and into Arthur’s arms. Gwaine, sword drawn and every sense alert, stalked through the last remnants of the ongoing battle as they headed back to the cluster of tents.

Arthur followed Gaius in and laid Merlin down as instructed. Carrying a man of Merlin’s height had taken almost the last of Arthur’s strength and he slumped down onto a vacant cot, his attention fixed on the body as Gaius fussed around it. He wondered why on earth Gaius was going to all this trouble to clean and bind wounds on a dead man.

“Arthur?” Gwaine’s voice caught and he cleared his throat. “The battle is almost over. We will need you on the field.

Arthur nodded, weary beyond words, and then thought of what Merlin would demand of him now. Taking a deep breath he stood. Gaius stepped back as he approached the cot. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to Merlin’s forehead and then strode out of the tent, Gwaine at his heels.

Across the field he could see the red cloaks of his knights rounding up what remained of the Saxon force. Most had already fled and those left seemed to be injured, abandoned by their fellows. His lip curled. About to walk towards them, Gwaine caught his arm.

“I saw what Merlin did.”

“He saved my life, Gwaine. That is all anyone needs to know now.”

“Would you have forgiven him – if he’d, he’d lived.”

“Yes,” he had never been so sure of anything in his life. He pressed a hand to a memory of pain in his side, frowning slightly as he thought of a dragon conjured from flame. “I would have been angry for a while, at all the secrets and the lies, but I would have understood.

“Will you give him a knight’s funeral?”

“Yes.”

Gwaine seemed satisfied for the moment, and both men straightened, raising their chins and striding strong and true towards the battle’s end.

Thanks to Merlin, Camelot and her king were safe.

 

*

 

Despite the fact that he’d died, Merlin felt remarkably well-rested. There was no pain at all, he was warm, and he was comfortable. Drawing in his first breath in what seemed like forever, he smacked his lips and wondered whether to wake up and get something to quench his thirst, but decided more sleep was preferable. It had been a very long time since he’d slept without doubts, regrets, grief or nightmare visions haunting him.

Arthur was safe and that was all that mattered.

“Well, my boy, you do know how to scare a man.”

Gaius sounded as long suffering as usual and it was only then Merlin realised he wasn’t alone. Blinking even in the dim light of the tent, he looked around. Gwaine was collapsed on a nearby bunk, snoring his head of but apparently unharmed. Still alive, thank the Gods, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. Gaius was standing by the cot with a horn tumbler in his hand and Merlin hoped its contents were for him.

In the background there were low voices murmuring, occasional cries of pain, and a bustle of movement as physicians tended to other wounded knights and soldiers.

Still, calm, sitting upright in a camp chair, hands on his knees and staring at him, was Arthur.

Alive, gloriously alive, and quite possibly furiously angry, though Merlin wasn’t too sure about that as Arthur’s face seemed carved from stone.

Hesitantly, he extricated an arm from the blankets surrounding him and waggled his fingers at Arthur. “Told you not to worry. I never stay dead for long.”

There was the tiniest twitch at the corner of Arthur’s mouth, the smallest shake of his head, the slightest suggestion in his eyes that suggested he was working hard to keep from rolling them.

“You and I are going to have a very long talk – very soon.”

Merlin cast about his still groggy mind for something he could say, some explanation he could come up with.

“No more lies, Merlin.”

Arthur’s voice was mild, but there was an implacable element to it that was enough of a warning. While it seemed Arthur had forgiven him the past, the same could not be said for any future deception.That was fine as far as Merlin was concerned, he’d had enough of secrets to last any number of lifetimes.

“Get some rest. I have to deal with the Saxon leader and see to the army. Gaius, when you are sure he is fit, both of you return to Camelot with the wounded. Gwaine and Percival will go with you.” He raised a hand as Merlin protested. “That is an order, Merlin. We will speak on my return.”

He was gone before Merlin’s tired mind could come up with any reason to stop him and instead he put up with Gaius fussing for a few moments, taking the drink he was offered gratefully and grimacing a little as the sweetness could not quite hide the taint of poppy. Settling down, he cast one more grateful glance across at Gwaine, and let sleep take him once more.

 

*

 

The journey home to Camelot was slow, though the number of wounded was thankfully considerably less than might be expected following such a battle. Merlin, after a day’s sleep, was on his feet and eager to help. Anything to keep himself busy and his mind off the forthcoming interview with Arthur. Percival, it turned out, had known about Merlin’s magic since they had met and Gwaine had guessed during their adventure in the Perilous Lands. Merlin, expecting questions, suspicion, or even hostility, found he was slightly put out at their matter-of-fact acceptance. Gaius didn’t attempt to hide his amusement.

The army returned two days later, Arthur stately and glorious in crown and cloak riding at the head. Merlin stood on the steps behind Gwen and the court, his heart thumping in his chest as if it wanted to fly out and meet his King, pride in Arthur eclipsing every other fear and worry within him.

Merlin saw Arthur’s eyes scan the crowd and lifted his chin a little, to meet the gaze directed at him. Arthur was still, and then inclined his head. Merlin returned the gesture and felt his heart leap again as the tiniest smile quirked the side of Arthur’s mouth.

Merlin couldn’t help it, he grinned and added his cheers to those of Camelot’s people as they welcomed their triumphant King home.

Arthur swung off his horse, pausing to rub behind Hengroen’s ear and pat his neck in thanks, before he walked towards his queen. Merlin’s heart thumped hard once again. Even in his victory, Arthur was mindful of the horse that had carried him. Merlin blinked, and then his heart sank instead as Arthur reached Guinevere.

She looked every inch a Queen, composed and calm as she reached forward for Arthur’s salute, turning her head to receive his kiss on her cheek.

It was greeted with cheers and Merlin managed to add his own, though he couldn’t understand why he felt as if he was being torn apart. As soon as he could, he slipped away and headed to Arthur’s chambers to ready them for him.

 

**

 

Merlin busied himself, ensuring Arthur’s chambers were perfect, organising a bath and a light meal as he waited. It was true that Arthur hadn’t seemed angry at all about the magic, which rather baffled Merlin. Of all the times he had considered the moment of his magic being discovered, calm acceptance had not been high on his list of possible Arthur reactions. There was more, he acknowledged, something else had shifted between them and he both hoped and feared what that meant.

By the time Arthur finally entered, Merlin was in a fever of impatience, and yet his first sight of Arthur distracted him.

“You’re exhausted.” The words blurted from him, and he rushed forward to divest his king of the heavy cape. Tossing it over a chair, he began working on unbuckling and removing armour, placing it with considerably more care. As he worked, he spoke. “Most of the wounded have already gone home. Gaius only has two in the infirmary and both should recover, though one will never hold a sword again. I’ve drawn you a bath. What did you do about the Saxons? Do you want some food? Is there going to be -”

Arthur’s hands covered his, where they were working to loosen the gorget.

“Merlin, hush, all is well.”

They stood there in silence, Merlin captivated by the strength of Arthur’s grasp, the anchor securing him. A brief memory of the lakeside surfaced and a sob was dragged from the depths of him. He waited for Arthur to tease him, to push him away with a laughing comment, but Arthur sighed gently and released a hand, his arm slipping around Merlin to pull him closer. Merlin ducked his head down to rest it against Arthur’s chest and let the steady beat of his heart soothe him.

When Arthur spoke, his voice was low. “I don’t know what you’ve done, Merlin, over all the years you’ve been in Camelot. I don’t know everything about you as I thought I did, but I know this. I know you love Camelot. I know you love me. Whatever you have done and by whatever means, I have no doubt you were doing your best to keep us all safe.”

It was everything Merlin had hoped for and more, but he couldn’t accept such absolution, easily.

“I’ve done some things – sometimes everything went so wrong.”

“You can tell me another time – and that’s the gift you’ve given us, Merlin. You’ve given us time.”

Merlin barked out a laugh at that. “You have no idea.”

Arthur pushed him away so he could see his face, a thumb rubbing gently under Merlin’s eyes, brushing away moisture.

The expression on his face stilled Merlin completely as he struggled to read everything within it. There was no anger, but he wasn’t entirely sure he was seeing what he thought he was – oh.

Arthur had leaned forward and kissed him.

Oh.

He fell against Arthur, pulling him as close as he could, and kissed him back, pouring everything, anguish, love, hope, desire, into his response.

They clung together when the kiss finally ended and then Arthur took Merlin by the shoulders and pushed gently back, putting a little distance between them. He was biting his lip.

 

 

“Merlin, this is – I want – but I’m married, and I will not dishonour Guinevere in such a way.”

Guinevere. Now Merlin understood his own earlier reaction, feeling suddenly sick at himself for the jealousy, for forgetting the situation they were in, for even considering betraying the woman who had been his friend.

“Guinevere cares for me, but she doesn’t love me. I haven’t been able to protect her, I’ve been unable to give her the child that might have helped us both. We spoke before I left for Camlann and she wanted me to send the army and stay here in safety. You might have wanted that, Merlin, but you would never have asked it of me. It’s not right to compare you both, it really isn’t, but in that moment I understood the difference between being in love, and love.” He slumped down into a seat.

Merlin, overwhelmed with more guilt, stumbled backwards until the edge of the table stopped him, and he clutched at it, the solid wood biting into his hands. Gwen. How could he have forgotten Gwen. Merlin had wondered at how they had grown apart, putting it down to her rise in status, understanding that she would need to distance herself from a mere servant. Now, though, he could see what else had been bubbling under the surface, how since the start he had loved Arthur in every way, not just as his prince or his king, but as a man. He’d long known the way his own taste ran, but for all that, it hadn’t occurred to him that he was in love with Arthur. Gwen must have known. He stood there, letting the feel of the wood ground him, shutting his eyes against the sight of Arthur, who had never looked defeated in the face of battle, looking defeated now. He had done that.

“Don’t.”

Startled, he opened his eyes to Arthur’s exasperated expression.

“Don’t take all the blame for this yourself, idiot.” Arthur dredged up a smile for him. “I can see the signs now. Every one of us has had a part to play in this. I need to talk honestly to Guinevere.”

Arthur’s words steadied him. “Not tonight, though? You’re exhausted.”

“No, not tonight. I’m going to bathe, and eat, and sleep.”

After that, they slipped into their normal routine, and Merlin, expecting to be uncomfortable, simply found himself acting as he’d always done, undressing Arthur with deft fingers and tossing the clothes in the general direction of the dressing screen in the corner, ignoring the sarcastic remarks as usual. He chivvied Arthur into the bath of still steaming water, also ignoring the dawning understanding and short bark of laughter as Arthur stepped into the warmth.

Once Arthur had finished and dressed, Merlin called for the tub to be removed, and then served the light supper, subsiding into the seat across from Arthur and helping himself to the food. Arthur didn’t even raise an eyebrow.

“Stay here tonight.”

Merlin choked on his wine. “Gwen -”

“Gwen will not be joining me – and I don’t intend – I mean. I would just rather you were close while I’m sleeping.”

Such an admission had cost Arthur and Merlin glanced up at the scowl and shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ll need something to sleep in.” He could feel the tips of his ears burn, but Arthur didn’t tease.

“I put something out for you.”

And that was that. Merlin disposed of the dishes, banked the fire for the night and put out most of the candles, grateful for the dim light as he changed. His own exhaustion began to catch up with him and he yawned, huge and noisily as he all but stumbled towards the bed. He slipped under the blankets and sank into the comfortable mattress with a groan of utter contentment, and Arthur’s chuckle ended in a choked curse.

Merlin would have said something, he felt he probably should, but his eyelids were so heavy.

“Did you lock the door, Merlin?”

Merlin extricated an arm from the delicious warmth and waved it in the general direction of the door, speaking one ward and listening in satisfaction to the click of the door as it engaged. A snort from Arthur was the only response, followed by an arm curving round his middle.

They slept.

 

*

 

Merlin startled awake, an unformed nightmare of battle, of losing Arthur, driving the sleep from him. With a shudder he lighted a candle. Arthur was rousing, too, gazing up sleepily at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just a dream. Go back to sleep.”

“I’m awake now,” Arthur grumbled, heaving himself up and putting a pillow behind him, glancing over at the pot tucked close to the banked fire. “Bring us some mulled wine.”

With a put upon sigh, Merlin scrambled out of the bed and poured two tankards, handing them to Arthur while he settled himself and accepted the warm brew, sipping it s warmth gratefully.

“Why didn’t you use your magic?”

Merlin shrugged. “Most of the time it’s instinctive – my control isn’t really good enough for intricate things like pouring from one vessel into another.

“You need to practice. Like a knight has to practice is sword skills.”

“I suppose.”

“Tell me about some of the times you’ve used magic? I want to know everything, Merlin.”

Merlin grimaced. “There’s a lot I’m not proud of – I got so much wrong.”

“You did your best, Merlin, and in the end you saved me and you saved Camelot.”

And so Merlin told him, letting it all spill out in a cathartic jumble. Arthur was silent and when Merlin finally stumbled to a halt after the tale of Arthur’s death, he got up and refilled their tankards, handing Merlin his before getting back into bed.

“That’s everything?”

“I think so. There might be some things I’ve forgotten.” Merlin waited for the anger and recriminations, feeling they were deserved, though he didn’t feel everything would be able to drown out his guilt.

“If my father hadn’t abused and then outlawed magic, none of this would have happened.”

“Perhaps not.”

“It would be a different world, Merlin, and it’s up to us, magic and non-magic, to make it right again. Will you help me?”

Maybe there was something that would help with the guilt. Merlin swallowed. “I’d like that.”

“Good, now let’s get some sleep.

This time no nightmare disturbed Merlin.

 

*

Arthur was gone when Merlin woke, sitting up in the bed and staring round at the empty room. He’d known as soon he’d opened his eyes that Arthur wasn’t there, that sense of the other man missing from the room. Reaching out with his senses, he found he could trace Arthur’s recent passage, drawing in his breath as he reached the Queen’s chambers.

His memory flew back to their conversations of the previous night, and nervous energy propelled him up and out of the bed. Washing and dressing swiftly, he shoved down some of the food Arthur had left, and then headed for Gaius’ room, figuring that he might as well make himself useful.

 

*

 

It was quiet, with Gaius out on his rounds, but the recent battle and aftermath had left the rooms in an uncharacteristic disarray. Merlin pottered around tidying up, then did an inventory of supplies, noting where they were low. Some of the basics he had been well-trained in and the basic ingredients were there, so he spent a couple of hours starting off lotions, pounding pastes and rolling the little pills of medication Gaius handed out.

Gaius was suitably grateful when he returned, and Merlin ignored the surprised eyebrow raise at the evidence of such industry. They worked together in silence, the work and company soothing the ferment within Merlin for a while. At least until the door opened and Gwen entered.

“Your Majesty,” Gaius bowed. He had evinced no difficulty in adjusting to Gwen’s change in status.

“Hello, Gaius. I’d like to borrow Merlin for a time if I may? It is a pleasant day for a walk in the gardens.”

“Certainly, Ma’am. Off you go, Merlin and take a basket with you. I could do with some mint, yarrow and comfrey.”

Merlin was left with no choice but to follow Gwen out and into the Castle gardens. The silence was awkward and he busied himself gathering up the plants Gaius had requested.

Eventually, they came to a seat that curved around an ancient apple tree. Gwen sat down and dismissed her lady-in-waiting, sending her back to the castle.

“Sit down, Merlin.” It was not a request and he did as he was bid.

“Arthur and I have spoken.” She sighed. “I truly believed I loved him when I wed him, but I knew there was someone else in his heart, as there was someone else in mine.”

“Lancelot.” Merlin still grieved for his friend and the pawn Morgana had made of him.

“Lancelot.” She whispered his name and a breeze rustled through the leaves of the tree. A single leaf fell into her lap, though autumn was far off, and she picked it up, cupping it in her hands.

“I like being Queen. I like being able to help our people, to have a voice that is heard – a powerful voice. I have no intention of giving that up.”

“Gwen, I -”

“Hush. I did try to hate you, you know, but I never could quite manage it – especially since I know what you’ve done for us all.” She paused. “I love Arthur enough to want him to be happy, and he wants the same for me. So that’s the arrangement. We’ll continue on as King and Queen, but it is a marriage of convenience only and otherwise we’ll live separate lives. We’re friends, and that’s what we’ll remain. I’ll ignore any liaison that Arthur may have – and he’ll do the same with me. We’ll both be discreet. Do you understand?”

“You really don’t mind?”

The look she bestowed on him then was stern. “I do mind, Merlin, I can’t do otherwise. I wanted to be Queen, I wanted to give my King children and to love him and have his love returned. It seems there will be no truly happy ending for any of us. How you and Arthur decide to live your lives from now on is up to you – but you cannot be open about it. You cannot undermine us.”

Merlin was beginning to understand. Gwen was fighting to retain everything she’d gained through her position and he could never blame her for that. Something else she had said distracted him from unhappy thoughts.

“Your liaisons? Is there someone? Ooh, who is it?”

Utter disbelief was in her expression as she regarded him, and then suddenly she collapsed into giggles. Her amusement was infectious and it set Merlin off. By the time they managed to control themselves, they were leaning into one another’s shoulder. Eventually Gwen pulled away and wiped her eyes.

“Never you mind,” she said. “Honestly, Merlin, no-one can ever beat you for cheek.”

He grinned and shrugged his shoulders. Somehow, he thought, they would all make it through this and become friends once more.

 

*

 

The conversation with Gwen replayed through his mind during the afternoon. Arthur was sequestered in a council meeting and had requested the Queen’s presence. Merlin, thinking of friendship won and lost, remembered Ealdor and with a deep breath, set off to have another difficult conversation.

With the new breadth of his powers, he cast a thought towards Aithusa, warning her of his arrival and a few moment later, he stepped forward -

\- onto the Isle of the Blessed. He felt his stomach heave as he recognised his surroundings. He concentrated on the sight of the healthy white dragon, walking forward to stand before her.

Morgana was resting against the snowy hide and Aithusa’s great talons were curved around her in protection.

Time fractured around them, fragments of visions and portents that only they could see; the horrors of what was, the pictures of what might have been if only, if only, and now the uncertain future stretching before them.

By the end of it, Morgana was visibly shaken, her hand pressed to the spot where Merlin had run her through, and Merlin would have dearly welcomed the comfort Aithusa offered Morgana now, rustling wings and soft crooning reflecting her concern.

“Why are you here?”

She eventually broke the silence as Merlin struggled to find words. In his desire for peace, for Arthur to be safe, he found his way to speech.

“I was thinking about Ealdor earlier. Thinking how you came to help me and my Mother – you and Gwen and Arthur. I remember how sad I was on the way home, and how you all were there. I don’t think I ever thanked you all for your kindness.” Merlin stared at the ground.

“I think I got everything wrong, really, all the way through. I ended up getting backed into corners, making decisions, and hurting the people I loved the most. I’m not asking for any kind of forgiveness for me,” he forestalled her. “I know it’s fat too late for that. I’m asking you to forgive Arthur, because he never wronged you. When you needed help, he gave it. He trusted you, and you betrayed him. I’m asking for Arthur. And I’m asking for Camelot.”

She threw her head back and laughed, crowing her disbelief. “Arthur sits on my throne.”

“No, he does not. Arthur is the Once and Future King foretold by prophecy. Even death could not hold him back from his destiny; the destiny to unite Albion and bring peace to the five kingdoms.” His chin was up, back straight and he could hear the certainty in his own voice. “You have seen it, too, Morgana. You cannot deny it.”

“How can I possibly trust you?” If she had been less well-bred, Merlin thought she might well have spat.

“I don’t blame you if you can’t trust me – but you can trust Aithusa. And you can trust Arthur. Would you be willing to speak to him if I brought him here?”

“You would do that? You would bring him to me?” A smile curved her mouth, a secretive, cruel twist. Aithusa rumbled in discontent and she turned, surprised.

“I can’t let you hurt my King,” Aithusa said. “I can’t let you hurt magic’s King.”

Morgana and Merlin exchanged a look, startled out of the underlying enmity by her words.

“And, anyway,” Merlin shrugged. “I can protect Arthur from you if needs be.” He met her stare dead on and she dropped her gaze.

“It seems I have little choice.”

“Arthur will bring magic back to Camelot, Morgana, and we will need help to teach, to relearn all we’ve lost. The Isle of the Blessed needs to be Blessed again, and to rebuild its purpose – to nurture magic and to demonstrate that it can be a force for good. Help us again. Help us to build, not destroy. Be a part of a brighter future.”

That was more than enough to be going on with, he thought.

“Do you need anything?” he asked.

“Are you offering more hemlock,” she returned, with false sweetness and smiled when she saw him wince. “I have everything I need,” she stepped out of the circle of Aithusa’s talons, bestowing an absent pat on her snout as she stalked past and into the interior of the ruined building.

“Keep her safe, Aithusa, and let me know if there’s anything - “

“I will. She is my Dragonlord.”

 

*

 

Merlin, exhausted by a day that had ben one of high emotion throughout, squeaked in alarm as he appeared in Arthur’s chambers and promptly found himself with a dagger at his throat. The fact his magic did absolutely nothing to protect him was clue enough as to the identity of the figure pressed against him.

“Merlin! Give me some warning next time!” He was shoved away and turned to see Arthur sheathing his dagger, looking distinctly cross. And very tired.

His own annoyance died and he stepped forward and wrapped his arms round Arthur. After a splutter, Arthur reciprocated and they stood in silence, drawing comfort from one another.

“Where were you?” Arthur asked.

Merlin hesitated.

“No more lies, Merlin, please?”

There was defeat in Arthur’s voice that shook Merlin to his core.

“I went to see Morgana. To try and get her to stop fighting us.”

“Any luck?” he didn’t sound hopeful.

“Perhaps, I think Aithusa is making a difference.”

“Aithusa?”

“The white dragon.”

“Ah.”

“Gwen spoke to me. You said you didn’t want any more secrets, but it just going to be different secrets, isn’t it?”

“I wish it could be otherwise, Merlin, but you know why it has to be this way.”

Merlin leaned back in Arthur’s arms, and suddenly felt at peace with the world. “I don’t care, really, as long as I don’t have to lie to you again.” He pressed forward again and kissed Arthur.

“Do you really think Morgana will stop?” Arthur asked some time later.

“I hope so, Arthur, really I do. I told her that you’re the Once and Future King, and that you have a destiny to bring peace to Avalon.”

Arthur moved uneasily, “What does that even mean? It’s ridiculously vague. Can’t you ” and he wiggled his fingers at Merlin, “ - find out more.”

“I’d never thought about it. I suppose I could try.”

There was a long pause.

“Well?” Arthur asked.

“I’m trying to work out the best way to do it.”

“You tell me you’re the most powerful mage in the world and you can’t manage a simple spell?”

Merlin spluttered. “I told you it’s instinctive.”

“And I told you you need to practice.”

“You really are the most infuriating man.”

Arthur just grinned at him, the grin morphing into wonder as Merlin spoke the words of a spell, his eyes glowing gold.

There was a moment of silence, then,

“Merlin?”

“Arthur?”

“Really?”

 

 

 

The ribbons were a whisper of silk against Merlin’s skin, wrapping around his left hand, which was now tied quite efficiently around Arthur's right.

Merlin shrugged at Arthur’s confusion, suspecting his own features reflected his own.

“Well, it’s your magic, Merlin. Surely you know what’s going on.”

The exasperation in Arthur’s tone almost distracted Merlin from the fact Arthur was talking about his magic as easily as if he might have mentioned Merlin’s legendary incompetence as a manservant. He swallowed.

“Sometimes it doesn’t quite work as I expect.” He aimed for a matter-of-fact delivery.

“Why am I not surprised,” Arthur muttered. He didn’t seem too alarmed by the red ribbons that encircled their joined hands.

“The spell was to uncover more about our destiny,” Merlin offered. They both looked at the ribbons, stretching towards the chamber door.

“Looks like your magic is taking us on a quest. Shall we follow?”

Merlin met his eyes then, his breath catching in his throat. Arthur’s eyes were twinkling, and the merriment reminded Merlin of so many times when Arthur was planning mischief. As emotion crowded into his throat, the expression softened and the grip on his hand tightened briefly.

“Well?”

Merlin managed to nod, swallowing and returned the grip for a moment before they turned to the door.

The night was well-advanced, which was just as well, Merlin thought, as the ribbon stretched along the middle of the corridor, wafting gently as it caught whatever breeze had found its way into the castle. They paused at a corner as the guards on their patrol made their way along the next corridor, walking through the ribbon without seeming to notice it. Once the coast was clear they followed after it, turning corner after corner, descending stairways, hands clasped together until they turned a corner and blundered into a figure moving swiftly in the other direction.

Leon.

“Sir Leon.” Arthur’s tone was bright. “Is all well?”

Leon’s eyes were fixed on their joined hands, frowning slightly. He didn’t seem to see the ribbon either.

Oh. Merlin felt the flush sweep across his features. “It’s not what you think,” he said, and blushed further at the exasperated expression on Arthur’s face

“One of the perks of being King, Merlin, is that you never need explain your actions.”

Leon dragged his eyes up to meet Arthur’s.

“Sire, I could not sleep and decided to check on the guards.”

“Good, well done. Carry on.”

“Sire,” Merlin watched as Leon bit his lip and his eyes drifted downwards once more. “The Queen - “

For a moment, Merlin thought Arthur was going to lose his temper but Leon looked up, brows drawn together, eyes troubled, meeting Arthur’s gaze directly. Arthur’s voice was mild as he answered the unspoken concern.

“As Merlin says, it is not quite what it seems. Can you show him, Merlin?”

Before Merlin could consider it, Leon bit back a curse. Hardly surprising, Merlin supposed, as there now seemed to be bright red ribbons going directly through Leon’s body, disappearing along the corridor and round a corner.

Arthur raised their joined hands, showing the way the ribbons bound them together. “We are on a quest,” he said, grandly.

Merlin thought he’d managed to hide his amusement, but a sharp elbow in his ribs suggested otherwise.

Leon’s attention turned to Merlin now, and he was frowning in disapproval. Merlin raised his chin and stared back. Arthur knew about and accepted his magic. That was all that mattered, Merlin reminded himself - the opinion of others was of no consequence. Deep inside himself, though, he knew that the acceptance of Arthur’s closest knights, really did count. He swallowed.

“A red ribbon, Merlin?” Leon said. “Could your magic not manage something more manly, more fitting a King?”

Merlin was startled into a laugh, relief at the teasing sending tears along with it. Beside him, he felt Arthur relax and the elbow this time was more a gentle pressure of reassurance and comfort.

“It wasn’t my idea,” he said, “but at least it’s Pendragon red.”

“The only saving grace,” Leon agreed, solemn, though now Merlin could see the way his eyes crinkled at the corner as he suppressed a grin. “May I join you on this quest?”

The ribbon shivered, a strand breaking away and curling round Leon for a moment.

“It would seem that is a yes, Leon.”

Both Arthur and Merlin ignored the remark Leon made about poetry as they set off once more.

They continued on their way, the ribbon curving round the corridors until it disappeared into an alcove covered by a tapestry.

There was an outbreak of cursing and a flurry of movement as the fabric was shoved aside and Percival and Gwaine stumbled out into the corridor, their clothing disordered and their mouths red, and staring at the ribbon. There was a moment’s hiatus as they caught sight of the others and all stared at one another. Leon’s hand was covering his mouth as he fought against laughter.

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“Gentlemen. It seems that you now have something better to do. Follow us.”

At that moment Merlin caught Leon’s eyes, and his own amusement bubbled up. Leaning against the wall, he gave himself up to laughter. Arthur gave hm a moment and then tugged gently, the movement gaining Gwaine’s attention.

 “What’s going on?” He sauntered over to them and inspected the linked hands.

 “Merlin’s magic seems to be leading us through the castle. I assume you can see the ribbon?”

Percival had taken a moment to walk down the corridor, obviously taking the opportunity to tidy himself up. “It disappears towards the lower caverns.”

Merlin frowned. “I used to go down there to visit the dragon.” He winced as Arthur’s hold suddenly tightened, and didn’t dare turn to see what expression might grace Arthur’s face.

Whatever emotions Arthur was dealing with, his voice remained mild as he spoke to the other two knights. “It seems it wants you to join us in this venture as well. Let’s go and see what we find.” And he walked on, pulling Merlin along with him.

They met no-one else as they descended stairway after stairway, the castle seemingly deserted as they made their way. They didn’t speak, the silence around them too absolute for any of them to think of breaching it, and even their movements were muffled, as if the magic was shielding them all.

Merlin conjured a light as they headed down the rough stairs and into the place that had seen Kilgharrah’s captivity. He stumbled to a halt and stared about him.

“This is as far as I’ve ever been.”

“You never thought to explore?” Leon asked. “I have lived in the castle since I was a young boy, and never found this place. Have you, Arthur?”

“I thought I knew every inch of Camelot,” Arthur replied. “But I have never been here.”

They stood in silence, staring around them at the vast space. With a word, Merlin cast some more glowing orbs into the blackness and they all gasped aloud when they realised the scale of it.

“The ribbon continues on.” Percival walked forwards. “It goes into the wall.”

Their attention was recalled and they clustered around him. At the end of the cavern, furthest away from the stairs, it seemed to end in solid rock, but Percival had spoken true, and the ribbon disappeared into it.

“Maybe there’s a door?” Gwaine was already testing various bits of rock to see if there was an easy way to enter.

“Or it’s hidden by magic?” Leon suggested.

“Just as well we have a resident warlock, then, isn’t it?”

Merlin shifted uneasily as all eyes were fixed on him. There had been a touch of acid in Arthur’s voice, and Merlin had a fair idea what had elicited it – standing as they were in the place that had held the dragon that Arthur now knew he hadn’t killed at all.

There was a gentle tug towards the wall and the ribbon seemed to glow. Wherever it was taking them, Merlin knew they were close to the end.

He placed his free hand on the rock, close to where the ribbon disappeared, and let his senses expand. “There’s another cavern. He spoke a word and the wall seemed to melt away, leaving behind a short smooth-walled corridor. Merlin touched the wall curiously, the smoothness against his fingers more like glass than rock.

“The ribbon has gone.” Percival broke the silence.

Arthur retained his grip on Merlin’s hand as he pulled him through and into the chamber beyond.

They might have taken longer to explore their surroundings but all attention was immediately focussed on the plinth in the centre of the space. The ribbons had returned, flowing out from their joined hands and around the object on the plinth in a smooth, unbroken, silken loop.

 

 

 

A dragon’s egg.

It cast its own light, softly white and cool and it looked as if it was waiting.

There was a long silence as they stared at it.

“Merlin, you told me you’re a Dragonlord – that you called Aithusa from the shell.” Arthur ignored the reactions of the other knights to this news. “What do we do now?”

Shutting his eyes, Merlin sent his senses out, trying to be as gentle as possible.”

“ _Welcome, Dragonlord. You have brought me my King.”_

His jaw dropping, he turned to Arthur. “She’s for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Call her name.”

“Her, how do you know -? Never mind. I don’t know her name.”

“You do, I promise.”

Arthur let loose a long-suffering sigh and shut his eyes as Merlin had done.

“æristhyht?” and then with more confidence. “æristhyht."

Gwaine’s expletive was lost in the sudden crack, and Merlin urged Arthur forward as a tiny beak began pecking away at the shell.

With Arthur’s help, an iridescent green body was soon clawing her way free and Arthur reached out to steady her as she came close to tumbling off the plinth. Held safe in Arthur’s arms she reached out her neck and regarded him solemnly.

Arthur, ever mindful of his manners in whatever situation he found himself in – unless it related to Merlin, of course – said: “Welcome to the world, little one. I’m afraid it is a sad land, these days, with few dragons.”

“I am not alone, Arthur Pendragon.”

She butted him with her head and Merlin almost laughed aloud as Arthur realised he’d been scratching her under her chin and had stopped. Except the urge for laughter left swiftly as he saw the tenderness sweep across Arthur’s face, and he turned away, abruptly feeling as if he’d interrupted something very private.

“Cast your light, Dragonlord,” she said.

As he’d done in the previous cavern, Merlin sent up some soft orbs of light, and they all gasped aloud.

Eggs. Hundreds of eggs.

“Aithusa was the first. Sent ahead to light the way but she does not know of us. I was next, born with the knowledge of old, the knowledge of a prophecy that would come to pass. Many years before the memory of man, we saw our ending and our beginning.”

“What about Kilgharrah?” Merlin asked. “He told me nothing of this.”

“Kilgharrah is the last of his kind. He knows nothing of us.”

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Arthur broke in. “What are we to do?”

She butted him gently with her head and managed a trilling sound that was clearly supposed to calm him, though Merlin wasn’t sure it had worked judging by Arthur’s troubled expression. He could understand it – the memory of Kilgharrah’s attack was fresh in many people’s memories still and the sight of a whole parcel of dragons was not likely to go well.

“We are creatures of myth and magic. In the past, only those men with enough power to be a dragonlord could bond with us. But that set men apart, and men and dragons became arrogant. Our fall was inevitable and when our wise ones saw the extent of the oncoming purge, they brought us into being. No-on needs magic to bond with a dragon now – anyone, from the highest to the lowest in the land, man or woman, can be paired with one of us. Together, we will unite Albion and we will help you deliver your destiny.” Seemingly exhausted by her long speech, she mewled and slumped against Arthur’s chest. “I’m hungry.” She complained.

“Here,” Gwaine could usually be relied upon to have some food on his person, and he held out a bread roll stuffed with meat, nearly losing his hand as she darted out and disposed of it in one mouthful.

“I was in that shell for a very long time. The others will be hungry, too.”

“Others?”

Merlin wondered if he’d gone as pale as Arthur at that thought, too, and he was about to ask what she meant, when Percival’s voice cut through the silence, strong and sure.

“Hyhtwynn.”

“Seht.” Gwaine had moved to stand by Percival.

“Gæd.” Leon’s voice cracked slightly, but he stood as still as the others as three eggs to the forefront of the mass began to react.

Merlin felt his jaw drop open at the sight, emotion crowding into his throat as the men knelt to help the dragons hatch, and then the peace of the cavern was shattered by a cacophony of demanding voices, dragon and men.

Arthur, still maintaining his protective hold, walked across to them, waiting until they all stood and then turned to face Merlin.

“And you, Merlin.”

“Me?” Merlin goggled at him.

“Yes, Dragonlord, you must call my mate.”

Her mate. Merlin felt his skin flush as Arthur caught his eye then.

“Go on, Merlin.” Arthur was a little red himself, but was smiling nonetheless and Merlin felt a new confidence steel over him. Glancing round, he saw one egg set carefully by itself, between the plinth and the mass behind. The knights must have walked past it.

Reaching out a hand, fingers splayed, Merlin was about to use the Dragonlord language, then though about what æristhyht had said and how the knights had not needed magic for this. Dropping his hand to his side, he spoke the name that came so clearly into his mind.

“Earendel.”

This time the egg didn’t crack, it simply melted away from the golden body beneath it. The little dragon spread its wings wide.

“Emrys, Dragonlord, Warlock, Beloved of the King.”

Merlin hurried forward, muttering. “Merlin will do just fine.”

“Merlin.” It took a step, snagged a talon on one wing and went face down onto the floor. As Merlin dived to the rescue, he heard Arthur.

“Well, if we didn’t know before, we definitely know it now – a perfect match.”

He paused in his attention to the dragon to cast a scowl in Arthur’s direction, but it was more out of habit than anything and he had heard the fondness in Arthur’s voice.

Fussing around the dragon, Merlin helped it up and then encouraged it onto his shoulder, the tail curving around his neck. Smugly, he waited until the others had followed suit and they were all staring at one another in silence.

“The people of Camelot are not going to find this easy to accept,” Arthur said.”

“No, but they will soon understand that the dragons protect Camelot. They trust you Arthur. We all do.” Coming from Leon, who had been injured by Kilgharrah, this carried weight.

“And if, like the knights, you no longer have to be noble, or have magic, that will help. Offer all the people of Camelot the opportunity to visit the cavern, to see if there is a dragon for them.” Percival offered his own suggestion and Merlin felt himself nodding in agreement.

Æristhyht spoke. “Your Queen will lead them. Her dragon awaits, and as the Red Queen, she will be the one who will bring the White Queen back to the light. Albion will know peace with the Once and Future King and destiny will come to pass. All will be well.”

It was a plan, thought Merlin, and if there was peace and protection to be won, then it was a good plan. He exchanged a look with Arthur, and saw his own thoughts echoed there.

Arthur, leaned forward, careful of the burdens they both carried and uncaring about the presence of the knights, to kiss Merlin gently. “Thank you, Merlin,” he said, and offered him a secretive smile. “This is a new destiny indeed. Let us go and meet it.”

Merlin curved a hand around his king’s cheek and returned the caress, his heart too full for words, but he knew Arthur understood.

“Hate to interrupt, Princess, but this one is talking about eating my boots so if we could make our way close to the kitchens and get them fed first, I’d appreciate it.”

Arthur and Merlin traded a grin at Gwaine’s prosaic reminder.

“Very well, gentlemen, let us proceed.” And Arthur, Merlin at his side and dragons upon their shoulders, led the way.

The first of the new race of Dragonlords began the journey back to the castle, ready to make the world afresh.

 

 

Fin

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my wonderful artist gilchroz. You were terrifically patient with me as well as providing an absolute gem of a start for the story and lots of excellent names. Thank you for your art, your input, your patience, and for making things easy for me! 
> 
> Please go to the artist's tumblr and Ao3 to leave kudos and comments!  
> https://gilchroz.tumblr.com/post/185278137463/my-first-post-my-first-art-post-and-my-first  
> Females  
> æristhyht - hope of resurrection  
> hyhtwynn - joy of hope
> 
> Males  
> Seht - Friendship peace or peace between two powers  
> Gæd - Fellowship  
> Earendel- Ray of light


End file.
